


Even the Strong Must Yield

by Dryad



Series: Fables [1]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, M/S-something, NC17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-08 02:22:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dryad/pseuds/Dryad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone has needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Even the Strong Must Yield

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
"It's just one of those days  
feelin' like a freight train  
first one to complain  
leaves with a bloodstain"

Limp Bizkit/Break Stuff/Significant Other  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~*~

Scully was being a bitch and she knew it. Call it hormonally induced  
madness, call it PMS, call it sheer horniness, she was still being a  
bitch, and what was more, she really was enjoying pissing Mulder off. 

Normally, she was able to take care of her sexual needs on a regular  
basis, but this month had been topsy-turvy with field cases, a  
lecture series at Quantico she had been 'volunteered' for, and more  
autopsies than she could shake a stick at. All of which meant she  
was very short on private time. And there was no way in _hell_ she was  
going to relieve herself in some pay-by-the-hour motel in Buttfuck,  
Illinois, in a bathroom where the mold saw more action than she did.

So now it was past midnight, she was sick and tired of paperwork, she  
was horny and frustrated and Mulder had interrupted the beginnings of  
what had promised to be an extremely pleasurable bath and the sooner  
he and his damned files left, well, she wasn't wasting any more  
damned time. She squirmed to keep the slick ache going  
between her thighs. "Are you done yet?"

Mulder glanced up from his position on the floor, lips pursed.  
"Almost."

She sighed heavily and resisted the urge to kick him in the head.  
She loved him, she really did. But he was stomping all over her last  
nerve. She settled for poking him hard in the thigh with her  
metallic rose toes. 

"What the hell was that for?"

Okay, maybe she wasn't the only one suffering from. . .internal  
tensions. "Sorry. I'm just antsy. I'm tired."

"Listen, Scully," he took her foot and lightly stroked her ankle. "I  
know these past few weeks have been difficult, but the load will  
lighten. I'll talk to Kersh on Monday."

"Yeah, whatever," she murmured, barely aware of what he was saying.  
Licking her lips, she stretched with her arms over her head. If he'd  
just look up, he'd see her stiff nipples poking through her shirt and she'd  
have fantasy fuel for the rest of the evening. She lost the delicate  
balancing act on the edge of the couch, sliding forward abruptly and unintentionally  
brushing his crotch with her foot. 

He grimaced and jerked back. "Jesus."

Scully sat up, tugged her shirt down a little lower than it needed to  
be. Fucking expense reports. "Sorry. I hate this shit."

"I hate it too, but I'm not complaining."

"For once."

"Look," he said with a frown. "I don't know what's going on with you  
\- "

"You got that right," she said, knowing she'd gone too far as soon as  
the words left her mouth. 

"You're being such a bitch," he spat, shuffling various papers  
together. "You need to get laid."

" _Fuck - you_ ," Scully launched herself off the couch. She  
managed to get a stride away before he caught her by the ankle once  
again, and as before, she lost her balance, landing on the floor with  
a grunt. She twisted to get away even as he dragged her back.  
"Damnit, Mulder! Let go!"

In hindsight it was perhaps the wrong thing to say, because he was on  
top of her in a heartbeat, face to face, one knee forcing itself  
between her legs. He was a profile in dark and light from the  
hallway lamp. He was ferocious. He was beautiful. She wasn't sure  
if she wanted to bite his chin or spit in his face.

"Is that what you want, Scully?"

"Get the hell off of me," she hissed, shoving against his chest. He  
grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the floor. Lord, in another  
situation - "Mulder - "

"You said it, Scully. Is that what this is about? Sex?"

God help her.

"Answer my question."

Maybe she should say it. _Yes_ , Mulder, it is about sex. No, too  
dangerous. He wouldn't take advantage of the situation. Even if she  
wanted him to. Shit, she really needed to get her mind out of the  
gutter. "What do you want me to say?"

His lips tightened further, eyes narrowed. "Answer my question,  
Scully."

She took a breath, shifted and tried to get her knee in between them  
to flip him off, but he saw what she was doing and simply dropped  
down all the way. And made a single pelvic thrust. Oh, now why did  
he have to go and do that?

It had been a long time since she'd had a man she loved on top of her  
outside of a work situation. Mulder gave another pelvic thrust and  
she gasped involuntarily. God, do it again.

"Is this what you want?" he asked, his tone soft and demanding.

Scully turned her head to one side, unable to look him in the eye.  
Could he feel the rapid thrum of her pulse in her wrists? Had he  
noticed how fast she was breathing? Of _course_ this was what she  
wanted. She felt him shift until he lay at an angle across her,  
breath hot on her neck.

"I can smell you," he whispered, lips barely brushing her ear.

A whimper escaped. It was a small one, but she could have kicked  
herself. She wanted to hold back until he made her scream. More to  
the point, she wanted to make him want her to scream. Her  
determination to keep quiet broke as soon as he began to suck on  
her neck, five o'clock shadow deliciously rough on her skin. The  
prickly stimulation was enough to make her squirm and rub against his  
thigh. 

"Mulder," she sighed, over and over again until her throat was dry  
and she was desperate for water. He answered with a throaty moan,  
bringing her hands above her head and gripping them tightly with one  
of his own. Within the blink of an eye she felt his touch along her  
left side, complete with a hard pinch of her nipple, something she  
usually hated. She wasn't a radio, for godsakes, her nipples weren't  
dials to be twisted this way and that. This was Mulder, though, and  
she would forgive him anything if he just relieved this unbearable  
pressure.

He shifted again, fumbling with the button and zipper of her cream  
cotton pants, erection heavy where he straddled her right leg. She  
was ready to break free, reach down and undo them herself when she  
felt them give. Brutal fingers claimed her, assaulted her the way  
she had dreamed of until she cried out from the sensation. Close, _so  
close_ \- and he stopped.

Scully licked her lips, tasting salt and trying to get her mind  
around his lack of action. He licked the shell of her ear, soft  
tongue making her dizzy with desire. "Mulder - please - "

Her plea was met with a sudden thrust of fingers into her body, and  
with a yelp of surprise she convulsed against him. He withdrew,  
smearing her slickness in circles over the perfect spot.

"Is this for me, Scully?" he asked, for whatever reason choosing not  
to look at her and read the truth in her eyes.

She stopped moaning and said, as if she were asking him to pass a  
file to her, "Yes."

There was a small, shocked silence. And then Mulder groaned and bit  
her shoulder. She rocked her hips to remind him of what he was  
supposed to be doing. Of course as soon as he began again, a cel  
phone sang out with a muffled trill. Scully willed it to stop, but  
her prayers weren't answered. Another trill, then a third and a  
fourth, and Mulder leaned back, propping himself up on one elbow. He  
withdrew his hand from her crotch, laid two moist, musk-laden, fever-  
hot fingers onto her lips. His expression was serious, unsmiling,  
almost cold. After a long moment, he rolled away to reach into the  
pocket of his leather jacket, carelessly thrown over the back of the  
couch. 

Scully sighed heavily. Fucking phones. Wiping light perspiration  
from her forehead, wondered what to do next. The call had disrupted  
the mood, whatever that had been. All she knew, all she could think  
about was Mulder, whether or not she should suggest moving to her  
bedroom, or even the couch. Maybe they shouldn't move at all, the  
floor was sort of comfortable. Or at least it was comfortable  
enough, for the moment. She stretched, heard vertebrae pop back into  
alignment. Oh, this was good. She was loose, relaxed yet buzzing  
with anticipatory energy. God. Mulder. At last.

Idly cupping her breasts, she watched him through half-shut eyes,  
humming at the thought of how he would feel inside of her, hot and  
heavy and hard. A gorgeous man, and hers, she was pretty sure. What she  
could see of his erection through his jeans looked pretty promising.

Mulder pursed his lips and hung up. "I've got to go."

"Wha-?" Scully sat up, pushed her hair behind her ears. "Give me a  
minute to change - "

"You're not wanted," he said harshly, putting on his jacket. 

She stared at him, unsure how to take his meaning, perversely more  
inclined than not to think it was a personal observation.

He relented, grabbed his keys from the basket. "They want a profiler  
asap," he shrugged, frowned. "I've got to go."

He left her sitting on the floor, rumpled and flushed, lust turning  
sullen and unwanted. Scully hauled herself up and looked aimlessly  
around her living room. The files were spread over the coffee table  
along with Mulder's half-drunk coffee and an empty Snapple bottle.  
Her underwear felt disgusting, cold and clammy, and honestly, all she  
wanted now was a bottle of red, depressing music, and her bed.

As the song went, two out of three wasn't bad. She showered, because  
the very idea of a bath had been ruined. She made college-style sangria with the  
last of the orange juice, sipped it while going through her cd's.  
Classical music wasn't going to cut it tonight. No, the evening  
required something loud, preferably with guitars and indecipherable  
lyrics. Unfortunately she didn't have much in the way of rock. Of  
course there was that cd Charles had sent her a couple of years ago.  
Ah, there it was, Sacrifice. How appropriate. The song titles were  
appropriate too: Seed of a Lie, A Question of Faith, Desire, You Walk  
In My Soul. She popped it in and listened while heading back to the  
kitchen for another glass of sangria. The opening song was sonorous,  
with an indecipherable digitally manipulated spoken phrase before the  
drums and gentle vocals cut in. It was good, she liked it.

Scully brought the bottle into the living room and flopped on the  
couch. Screw the files all over the floor, she'd deal with them in  
the morning. So fucking what if she'd laid her cards on the table.  
It wasn't like they weren't attracted to each other, even if they  
hadn't done anything about it. Besides, he'd been just as open, in  
his own way. She smirked, gently touching her bitten and bruised  
shoulder. They were even in the vulnerability stakes.

Her reverie was broken when her cel phone rang. She didn't want to  
answer it.

No, she did.

She didn't.

Guilt won in the end. She picked it up, pressed the button, and  
waited, the tinny sound of engine noise competing with the cd.

"It's me," he finally said. "I'm on my way to Alabama."

She took too big a gulp and swallowed wrong, ended up coughing and  
spluttering into the phone. 

"Scully?"

"I'm here," Eyes streaming, she muted the stereo with the remote. An  
explosive sigh came over the phone. She topped up her sangria with  
wine, watched the sunset liquid become ruddier, bits of orange pulp  
floating up and down. Was he going to apologize for what he had said  
before he left? Or simply go off on some nonsense? Was she supposed  
to break this silence? She could give him that. "What's the case?"

"I don't want to talk about the case."

"Then why did you call me?"

Another sigh.

"Mulder?"

"I shouldn't have left like that."

The anger abruptly left her at his admission. She let her head fall  
back, stared up at the ceiling. "You had to go, Mulder."

"Not like that."

"It's alright."

"Scully?"

"Hmm?"

"I'd like another opportunity to finish what I started."

And just like that, irritation vanished completely and was replaced  
with anticipation. 

"I don't know when I'll be back. I think Kersh has made it his  
personal mission to make both our lives miserable."

She snorted, took a sip of sangria. "He won't ruin this. He can't,  
no matter what he does, no matter where he might send us."

"Is that your scientific opinion, Agent Scully?"

"It is indeed, Agent Mulder."

He huffed a laugh. "I'll call you when I get back."

"I'll be here," she said.

~*~

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I quoted a Limp Bizkit song.
> 
> *hangs head in shame*
> 
> If you haven't read Anais Nin's 'Delta of Venus', well, you should.
> 
> Can't believe I wrote this in 2001...


End file.
